II.

If less my love exceeds all other love,

Than Lucy's charms all other charms excel, Far from my breast each soothing hope remove, And there let fad Despair for ever dwell.

III.

But if my foul is fill'd with her alone;
No other with, nor other object knows;
Oh! make her, Goddess, make her all my own
And give my trembling heart secure repose!

IV.

No watchful fpies I ask, to guard her charms,
No walls of brass, no steel-defended door:
Place her but once within my circling arms,
Love's fureft fort, and I will doubt no more.

TO THE

SAME.

ON HER PLEADING WANT OF TIME.

I.

N Thames's bank, a gentle youth

ON

For Lucy figh'd, with matchless truth,
Ev'n when he figh'd in rhyme;

The lovely maid his flame return'd,

And would with equal warmth have burn'd,
But that she had not time.

II. Oft

II.

Oft he repair'd with eager feet
In fecret fhades his fair to meet,

Beneath th' accuftom'd lime:

She would have fondly met him there,
And heal'd with love each tender care,

But that he had not time.

III.

"It was not thus, inconftant maid!
"You acted once," (the fhepherd faid)
"When love was in its prime :"
She griev'd to hear him thus complain;
And would have writ, to ease his pain,
But that she had not time.

IV.

How can you act so cold a part?

No crime of mine has chang'd your heart,
If love be not a crime.-

We foon must part for months, for years-
She would have anfwer'd with her tears,
But that he had not time.

YOUR

TO THE SAME.

OUR fhape, your lips, your eyes, are ftill the
fame,

Still the bright object of my conftant fame;
But where is now the tender glance, that ftole,
With gentle sweetness, my enchanted foul?

Kind fears, impatient wifhes, foft defires,
Each melting charm that Love alone infpires?
Thefe, these are loft; and I behold no more
The maid, my heart delighted to adore.
Yet, ftill unchang'd, still doating to excefs,
I ought, but dare not try, to love you lefs;
Weakly I grieve, unpitied I complain; ·

But not unpunish'd fhall your change remain ;
For you, cold maid, whom no complaints can move,
Were far more bleft, when you like me could love.

TO THE SAME

I.

HEN I think on your truth, I doubt you no

WH

more,

I blame all the fears I gave way to before :

I fay to my heart, "Be at reft, and believe

"That whom once he has chofen fhe never will leave."

II.

But, ah! when I think on each ravifling grace

That plays in the fmiles of that heavenly face;
My heart beats again; I again apprehend
Some fortunate rival in every friend.

III.

Thefe painful fufpicions you cannot remove,
Since you neither can leffen your charms nor my love;
But doubts caus'd by paffion you never can blame;
For they are not ill founded, or you feel the fame.

то

TO THE SAME;

WITH A NEW WATCH.

WI

ITH me while prefent, may thy lovely eyes
Be never turn'd upon this golden toy :
Think every pleafing hour too swiftly flies ;

And measure time, by joy fucceeding joy!

But when the cares that interrupt our blifs
To me not always will thy fight allow;
Then oft with kind impatience look on this,
Then every minute count-as I do now.

AN IRRE GUL A.R OD E.

WRITTEN AT WICKHAM IN 1746.

TO THE

I.

SAME.

YE fylvan scenes with artless beauty gay,
Ye gentle fhades of Wickham, fay,
What is the charm that each fucceffive year,
Which fees me with my Lucy here,
Can thus to my transported heart
A fenfe of joy unfelt before impart ?

II.

Is it glad Summer's balmy breath, that blows
From the fair jafinine and the blushing rofe?

Her

Her balmy breath, and all her blooming store
Of rural blifs, was here before
Oft have I met her on the verdant fide
Of Norwood-hill, and in the yellow meads,
Where Pan the dancing Graces leads,
Array'd in all her flowery pride.

No sweeter fragrance now the gardens yield,
No brighter colours paint th' enamel'd field.

III.

Is it to Love thefe new delights I owe?
Four times has the revolving fun
His annual circle through the zodiac run;
Since all that Love's indulgent power
On favour'd mortals can bestow,
Was given to me in this aufpicious bower.

IV.

Here firft my Lucy, fweet in virgin charms,
Was yielded to my longing arms;
And round our nuptial bed,

Hovering with purple wings, th' Idalian boy
Shook from his radiant torch the blissful fires
Of innocent defires,

While Venus fcatter'd myrtles o'er her head.

Whence then this strange increase of joy He, only he, can tell, who, match'd like me, (If fuch another happy man there be)

"

Has by his own experience tried

How much the wife is dearer than the bride.

то